Phantom Wraith Novels & Stories

My name is Elora and I reside at the Blue Mountain Packhouse. I have a slim figure, long curly blonde hair which I usually wear up in a bun so it is out of my face. My eyes are a deep blue which I love. I am not a normal girl though. You see I am a shewolf, my rank at the packhouse is an omega. I don’t know my parents because they passed away when I was just a tiny baby, so I don’t have any memories of them. The only thing I have is a necklace locket from my mother. I have never taken it off because it makes me feel close to her spirit.

Hello again, guys! Like I said in my author's note, this book is a prequel to Wrenched. Underneath this note, I'll attach a little synopsis to it, so we could have an idea of what the book would be about. I would appreciate your reviews and comments like you always do. Please enjoy! WRENCHED: THE OUTSET OF THE STORY. SYNOPSIS Two friends walk the spheres of life together and are bound by common interests and ambition to be successful at a young age. They are like brothers and would do anything for one another.

It has been a week since Yahir was captured. King Quincy had sentenced him to death after one week of taking fifty whip lashes daily. Today is the day he is put to death and I am looking forward to it. His mate’s parents were sitting in front of us and I placed one hand on the mother’s shoulder and my other hand on her father’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. I released a small amount of my omega waves and they visibly relaxed. The mother smiled at me, “Thank you, princess.” I smiled, “You’re very welcome. This may get a little gross. Let me know if you need more.” She smiled, “Thank you.”

He had only wanted to kill Megumi, but seeing as they were all the same they all had to go. Megumi said she didn’t trust him, but in the end she had let her guard down at the last minute. And he had been able to strike like the cobra he was. He had already packed his things. His jacket that Megumi didn’t like was very roomy and his gadgets didn’t take that much room. He made sure he cleared out all his things so what happened here wouldn’t be traced back to him. So this was how the great Phantom fell?

Lucas had been gone for hours, leaving me to the not so careful ministrations of Magda. The wart nosed witch who I had clobbered over the head with a candlestick. She was hunched forwards with a permanent hunchback and cloudy milky white eyes signalling that her eyesight was diminished with cataracts. She almost looked like she had taken a step out of a Greek mythology book and was actually one of the fabled grey sisters, who determined all living creatures fate. Perhaps she was, all myths derived from elements of truth. Any second now she was going to pull out a pair of rusty old scissors and cut my life cord into two. I held back a giggle at the thought.

Men and women once trained to be invisible in light, untraceable in code. The first opened his eyes before Lorenzo spoke. "They said you were dead," the man rasped. Lorenzo smiled. "They say a lot of things." He pressed his palm to the master console. "Initiate Black Cell program. Operation PHANTOM. Loyalty protocol: De Rossi only." The AI replied: Command accepted. Thirteen operatives remain. Preparing for deployment. Lorenzo stepped back. The Wraiths would rise again. But this time, they weren’t Umbra.

Malachi, pointing at the dark figure, countered, "But first, we need to understand who or what that is. It's unlike any being we've encountered." The figure, sensing their confusion, chuckled, its voice deep and echoing, "I am the Nexus Wraith, the embodiment of discarded and forgotten realms. You've given me an opening, and I intend to claim it." Elysia, ever the warrior, stepped forward, challenging, "We won't let you destabilize the balance we've fought so hard to maintain." The Wraith, amused, retorted, "Balance? By restoring one, you've beckoned many. Your intentions, noble as they may be, have consequences."

“The Wraith... it's in pieces!” Thorne's golden eyes sparkled. "The pieces..." Everything... It is falling apart because of how strong she is!"" I looked into Draven's dark blue eyes. The Wraith will try one last trick, even though you are bound to the moon. It will attack you physically and test your heart, soul, and everything you hold dear.

A slow, hot burn that tightened my chest and slicked my thighs. Then I saw him. He rose from a throne of ebony and bone. A silhouette of pure darkness wrapped in black leather. Obsidian and silver covered his face—a wolf's snout, narrow slits for eyes, a mouth that showed nothing but the occasional gleam of fang. The Phantom. Our gazes locked. The bond slammed into place like a physical blow. A primal snarl ripped from his throat, echoing through the hall. Conversations died. Every wolf turned to watch.

My study becomes a war room, papers and books scattered across every surface, notes scrawled in margins as I piece together everything I can find about the creature we're facing. The wraith is old. Ancient. One of the few remaining creatures from an era when magic ran wild and unchecked through the world. It feeds on emotional memories—the bonds between mates, between parents and children, between friends. The stronger the emotion, the more powerful the memory, the more sustenance it provides. Which means it will sense me coming from miles away. My shields are strong, yes. But they're also a beacon. A challenge. The creature will know someone with power is near, and it will come for me.